


Rocktober 2019

by RDcantRead



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Awkward Dates, Bowtay, Break Up, Comfort, Coming Out, Concussions, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Depressed Brian May, Depression, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Fainting, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Getting Together, Halloween, Haunting, Hotels, Humor, Hurt Roger Taylor (Queen), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Roger Taylor (Queen), John is a Bit Not Good, Kissing, Light Angst, Multi, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Platonic Soulmates, Prompt Fic, Sad Roger Taylor (Queen), Truth or Dare, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-15 10:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 15,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RDcantRead/pseuds/RDcantRead
Summary: Drabbles every day for the month of October. Completed!





	1. "It will be fun, trust me."

"It'll be fun! Trust me darling!"

"Do I look like an idiot to you Fred? I'm not going in there."

"Oh, come on Roggie, just once, I'll protect you!"

\-----

"'It'll be fun!'" Roger mocked, "'I'll protect you!' yeah, right." His annoyance at Freddie's idea was audible in his tone, conveying perfectly how fed up he was of Freddie's idiotic plans. (He thinks that maybe makes him an idiot for always going along with them. Maybe.)

He continued trudging through the soggy undergrowth, permeated with water from the typical English rain. The forest was illuminated by moonlight, and Freddie was nowhere to be seen, supposedly having run off somewhere after being frightened. The dank forest creaked ominously with the wind and the cold of the late hour snuck in beneath his jacket. He was regretting not taking some food with him.

He could hear a shuffling sound coming from somewhere in the forest, the woods amplifying the stereo effect of the sound, making Roger jump and swear as an owl hooted loudly above him. Oh, how he wished he was out drinking and getting wasted instead of out here in the cold.

Taking a few tentative steps forward, Roger continued deeper into the forest in search of the exit, so he could get home and cry about his terrible experience that day. And all this on Halloween. Yeah, he was right to be scared, there could be pedophiles hiding somewhere in the forest, waiting for children to come and explore.

There could be a sex cult looking for a victim to start their orgy, Roger really didn't want his first proper orgy to be in the middle of a forest on Halloween night. (A foursome doesn't count.) He was ready to stop and sit down and cry, every single noise causing him to flinch, leaving him shaky and terrified, whimpering noises escaping his mouth every time he heard something or stepped on an irregular part of the forest ground.

Freddie had said he'd protect him, and this was brilliant proof of Freddie's amazing integrity. After he got home and took a shower and ate something (God, he was hungry) and cried himself to sleep, then he would berate Freddie's awful decision making skills. 

His stomach grumbled loudly, disrupting some of the natural wildlife, and scaring Roger. He was unwilling to go any further into the forest, the trees in front of him seeming dark and malicious, their crooked limbs dissuading Roger from taking a single step further. 

"Boo!" He turned around, Brian, John's and Freddie laughing their asses off at his high pitched scream, reminiscent of a girl from a horror movie. 

Roger immediately burst into floods of tears, refusing any of the comfort of his band mates.

Feeling guilty for scaring their friend, the others took him home, and stood around awkwardly until Roger stopped sobbing and fell asleep from the stress. 

He woke up the next morning screaming at his best friends for their parts in everything they put him through.


	2. "Just follow me, I know the area."

The world was shaky and confusing, and was constantly changing, a result of the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed earlier in the evening. 

He wasn't sure where exactly they were, as touring America gave them very few stops to relax, and despite numerous after parties, he hadn't learned to distinguish between cities that looked identical.

The drink made his head spin and liquefied his surroundings, making it even more difficult to tell not only where he was, but where he was going.

Luckily he had John with him, John would know where to go. Well, he also had Roger with him, but Freddie was unsure of Roger's usefulness besides being amazing fun and a good friend who matched him drink for drink.

"Look Fred! It's a poodle!" Roger's exuberant voice exclaimed upon seeing Brian, who, despite seeming quite sober, was indeed tipsy. 

Freddie could see Brian's irritated expression in response to Roger's proclamation, making him laugh loudly, giggling along with Roger.

Brian quickly caught up to them, and, given that they were drunk as fuck, that wasn't much of a challenge. Face filled with amusement at the predicament Freddie and Roger were in, Brian quickly beckoned them to follow him.

"Just follow me, okay? I know the area, and the hotel isn't very far." Brian then sets off, turning left down a street 

John quickly interjects, "Brian, I think you'll find that the hotel is this way," pointing the opposite direction to where Brian was heading.

Alight with a fresh wave of giggles at Brian being reprimanded, Freddie and Roger somehow made it back to the hotel, complete with background music, courtesy of their drunken selves. 

When they eventually stumbled back into the hotel room, Freddie smacked a kiss onto Roger's lips before turning to go into the bathroom to take a shower, and walking into the door.

"Freddie!" Three voices cried out in unison, "Don't leave me, I'm too young to be single!" Roger's voice continued.

"Roger, you do know that we'll still be there?" Brian questioned his drunk boyfriend, causing Roger to cheer up due to the lack of his imminent lack of relationship. 

John however, was still fussing over Freddie, who was holding a hand to his cheek, and going to get some ice for the injury. 

"You're my beautiful knight in shining armour, darling," Freddie exclaimed when John had returned with the ice pack, before kissing him on the cheek in gratitude. 

Freddie once again made to go into the bathroom, this time successfully, and, ten minutes later, was joined in the shower by a naked, giggling Roger. 

After washing and drying himself, with the help of his boyfriends (two of them), he made his way into the large bed in the room and flopped down into the centre being immediately joined by Roger, who jumped onto his chest before rolling off to cuddle up to his side.

He fell asleep soon after, waking up cocooned in warmth between his boyfriends' arms, wincing at the light and plagued by a dreadful hangover.


	3. "Now? Now you listen to me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one because I'm feeling sick today, but I hope you enjoy it nether the less

It's an argument that starts it, the argument that leads to Freddie, Brian and Roger screaming at each other in the middle of the studio, getting no work done, and completely ignoring John. 

He just sat there, enjoying the free entertainment while it lasted. And it lasted.

Of course they would disregard what John had said earlier, of course they would ignore what he said. But it paid being the bass player, and John knew that eventually they would come to the same conclusion he had come to.

He waited until the argument wound down before he offhandedly repeated what he had said a few minutes prior.

"Maybe just up the bass?" His nonchalant tone caught the band's attention, and Freddie made his way over to the panel to increase the volume of the bass part, before listening intently.

He smiled brightly at John, "You should have told us earlier darling, instead of letting us argue like a pair of old queens!" Freddie's exclamation forced a sigh from John's throat, he  _ had _ told them earlier, and they chose to listen to him _ now _ ?

Roger and Brian nodded along with Freddie's statement, and soon began tossing opinions about "Deaky's prowess in musical production" or something like that. He wasn't really too fussed.

Peculiarly, they stopped arguing altogether after John's timely intervention, despite the fact that when they had finally come to a decision about the music, the argument continued. Maybe they were finally maturing.

...or maybe not, seeing as how they were now rolling about on the floor, giggling like mad. They may get into a lot of arguments, but John really loved his boys.


	4. "I know you didn't ask for this."

The days felt long and unending, dragging on and on without any sign of stopping. It was hard getting up in the mornings, hard to force himself to wash up and out clothes on. Hard to attend events, hard to see his boyfriends enjoying life while he was stuck in a loop of depression.

On the days it was particularly difficult, he couldn't find the will to wash up, to shave, to eat, to do basic human actions. And that made it so much harder, the shame flooding through him on the days that he didn't feel so numb.  


He woke up one day, too tired to get up and do anything, to go anywhere, with his boyfriends wrapped around him, comforting him.  


Contrition coursed through him, his gratitude to his boyfriends evident. He didn't deserve burdening them with all his issues.

"...I'm sorry," a whisper in the dark, Brian's voice hoarse from the early morning and from the small amount of speaking he had been doing recently.  


"It's okay Bri, I know you didn't ask for this." He receives, a whisper in his ear, Roger's sweet voice soft and melodious. He squeezed him tighter before loosening his grip, all three of them curling themselves around his still form.

A tear is jerked from his eye at his boyfriends' display of love, loyalty and devotion, he can't believe three of the most wonderful people in the world would ever want someone like him, a mess like him.

"I can practically hear the bad thoughts Brimi, it's okay, we're here, and we're never leaving," the nickname tugs at Brian's heartstrings, he could feel the vibrations Deaky speaking against his back, his mouth moving against his neck.

Freddie is in front of him, and he presses a kiss against his cheek, kissing away the tears rolling down his face.  


The full warmth and support of the three people he's closest to strikes something within him, making him hide his face in their hair and resolve to do better, to try harder.  


He really does want to get better. And he's determined to do it, he knows the effect his depressive episodes have on his boyfriends, he sees the dark circles and tired eyes, the anxiety ridden sleepless nights and the shaky smiles.

He wants to get better, not just for them, but for himself, because he doesn't deserve what he's getting. And his boyfriends will keep repeating it until he believes it. Even if it takes a thousand years.  


And he knows they will. One thing he's sure of in the hazy unreality of his depression is his undying love for his band mates, his best friends, his lovers. It's enough to take his breath away, and it's enough for him to take his first proper breath in a while.


	5. "I might just kiss you."

It was a gradual thing, really. Roger didn't even notice when it began, but he sure as hell noticed it now.

It was admiration, then an innocent little crush, then a big crush, now Roger was sure he was in love.

He'd only _ admired _ David. Everytime he had choir practice in school he would listen out for David's unique baritone voice. Then he would stare, starstruck, at him in the corridors when going to classes.

His friends began teasing him about his growing crush on the "amazing, handsome, talented, intelligent" David Bowie.

Freddie would comment excessively on David's virtues, making Roger blush uncontrollably and refuse to talk to him for a whole five minutes.

John would subtly mention him in conversation to see Roger turn around quickly to see if he was there.

Brian would sarcastically pat him on the shoulder in false sympathy for his debilitating crush.

Then it progressed to his friends comforting him as he cried floods of tears every time they saw each other about David never liking him back, about how he wasn't good enough for someone as amazing as him. How he wasn't smart enough, funny enough, attractive enough.

This was the point at which his friends decided to do something about it, considering how much Roger was struggling with himself, being insecure about things they hadn't even noticed were a problem.

They set out to deduce information about David Bowie's situation regarding Roger Taylor. So they locked themselves in a dark closet with David Bowie to interrogate him.

The left half an hour later, looking very self-satisfied. Any unsuspecting witness would just think it was a random foursome, so it was no problem.

Then it got unexpectedly worse. Roger would be lackluster, not talking much, not being himself. His snarkiness in class taking a backseat to laying on the desk despondently.

They knew there was only one thing that could help, and they were counting on David to deliver.

Step One - David would ask Roger for help studying biology, getting him alone. (With the others spying, of course.)

Step Two - Roger would help David solve a problem in biology, and David would smoothly flirt with Roger.

Step Three - Freddie, Brian and John would go home, they didn't need to see what happened next.

Except it didn't go to plan, Step One went off without a stumble, running smoothly. This should have set off warning bells, considering nothing ever went smoothly when it came to "Queen" (Yes, they had a band. Yes, it was _awesome._)

Then it all crashed and burned when it came to Step Two. The problem was… the _problem _was that David was smart enough to save the problems himself, leading Roger to think David was leading him on… and basically, get really angry at him and start screaming at him.

It all came to a screeching halt at, "I might just kiss you."

Deafening silence. "What?" Stuttered reply, Roger's confused, David's blushing, abort mission, abort mission!

"You're so fucking hot when you're angry."

Step Three luckily went into action quickly, otherwise Freddie would have had to murder a bitch because of Deaky's PTSD.

And no one wants that.


	6. "Yes, I'm aware. Your point?"

It happened accidentally, one moment they're talking normally, the next moment it's complete confusion.

Freddie's just talking about the attractive men sitting at the bar when there's a sudden exclamation. 

"Wait, hold on a minute Fred," Roger looks vaguely confused, Freddie beckons him to continue, "You're gay." It's spoken in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, a statement.

"Yes, I'm aware. Your point?"

Roger splutters uncomfortably, "Well, I mean… you're gay." Roger repeats himself, unable to correctly articulate the pure confusion visible in his eyes.

"Yes. Darling, I thought you _ knew,_" Freddie responds to Roger's unintelligible mumbling, he had never noticed how oblivious Roger was.

Roger turns pink, snapping his mouth shut and looking away in embarrassment. He mumbled something quietly.

"Say that again darling, I couldn't hear you."

"I said, that I never noticed because I noticed exactly the same things that you always noticed about guys, and I thought it was normal." He sounds bitter, and his face is turned away from Freddie.

Freddie's face softens, and he can feel Roger's confession tug at his heartstrings, "Come here Blondie," he waits until Roger moves to sit beside him, before embracing him tenderly and continuing, "It's okay, and it is normal. You're not any different,"

Roger yanks himself away from Freddie's embrace, his face is red and there are tears in his eyes, "But I am!" His voice is thick with sobs and his voice cracks pitifully, "I'm meant to be Roger Taylor, woman killer, playboy extrordinaire, not a fucking fag!" 

Roger then breaks down into sobs in front of Freddie, his heartbreak and shame evident on his face, "It's not something to be ashamed of, and it doesn't make you any less of a person. Do you think worse of me because I like men?" Freddie questions gently.

"...No." Roger's voice is still thick with sobs, and he often takes pauses to catch his breath, "You're still you Fred, an amazing singer and a songwriting machine. You're beautiful." 

Freddie can feel tears begin to fill his eyes, "If I'm still me, then why can't you still be you?" He renders Roger silent, "See? It's just you being a bit of an idiot, Blondie. You're still you, Roger Taylor, biggest prick England's ever seen, and my best friend."

Silence.

"Thank you, Freddie."


	7. "No, and that's final."

"Come on Bri!" A whiny voice pleaded, "Just once."

"I said no, Rog. Just leave it."

"I won't do anything you wouldn't do. I promise." The voice took on a serious tone for a moment.

"Rog, I said no, and that's final."

A pout made its way onto Roger's face, and he turned his big blue eyes towards Brian, hoping that he could be convinced.

No such luck. 

"Roger, you know that those don't work on me. No way."

"I'll treat her right Brian! I'll be a right gentleman."

"Roger. It's not up for debate, now go back and do whatever it is you were doing, instead of annoying me with your antics."

Roger flops onto the sofa, beside Brian. He sits there for a while before once again speaking up.

"Maybe -" "No."

"Okay."

Another moment of silence.

"How about-?" 

"Roger, I said no!"

"...It's not like you're-"

"Roger, why is this so important to you?"

A lengthy silence. Brian has stopped reading his book and is focused on Roger.

"...well?" He presses.

"It just is, okay?" He's no longer looking at Brian, instead he's resolutely turning away from him, "Freddie would let me." He whines moodily.

"I'm not Freddie, Roger. And that's totally different."

"How's it 'totally different'?" Roger's looking right at Brian with indignation now, "It's exactly the same!"

Brian looks at Roger with a blank stare, "...no it isn't."

"Yes! It is!" Roger's voice careens higher in pitch as he tries to convince Brian.

It's not working. Brian remains stoic, he isn't budging.

"Roger," he begins slowly, like he's speaking to a toddler, "I'm not going to be convinced. Just give it up."

Roger looks up at Brian in anger for a moment, before deflating and looking despondently down at his hands, were he was fidgeting with his fingers.

"...okay Bri." His voice is soft and quiet.

He stands and walks away slowly, looking back to see Brian back to reading his book, before continuing towards the door.

"Alright then Rog, you can play the Red Special."

He gets tackled by Roger gleefully, "Thank you Bri! I promise I'll take care of her!" 

Roger runs off to find the guitar, leaving Brian chuckling to himself at his dramatics.

He wouldn't expect any less from Roger.


	8. "Can you stay?"

John woke up, gasping. It was just a dream. He was covered in cold sweat and his bedding was bunched around his ankles. It felt so real, the nightmare was still haunting him, contributing to his shuddery breaths and gasping sobs. He reached up to wipe his eyes, his hand coming back wet with tears. 

He could hear slight shushing noises coming from his right, and, turning his head, they came from a mussed up figure with wide, worry filled eyes. They seemed to be handing onto the worry to keep them awake.

Roger. They shared a room together in their band flat, and he seemed to have awoken Roger with his nightmares. As usual, he hardly went a night without waking Roger up from his much needed sleep, especially given how little Roger actually slept.

He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, "Sorry, Rog." He mumbled sleepily, his voice hoarse from disuse. Roger didn't deserve to put up with his ridiculous meltdowns, especially over something as stupid and childish as nightmares.

"I don't mind," Roger was a good friend. He stayed there for a while, holding him and comforting him. Roger was the only thing keeping him from delving head first into a panic attack of epic proportions.

Roger pulled away after a few minutes, he knew John wasn't particularly fond of physical contact - or at least not as much as Roger was. He would usually be thankful for the decreased contact, but tonight he really couldn't bear to be alone.

Before he could get particularly far he was stopped by John grabbing his arm, "Can you stay?" Roger hesitated, "Please?" Roger seemed unsure, he would rarely pass up a Deaky cuddle, but he couldn't seem to make his mind up about if he would stay or not.

He gave in and sat back down wrapping himself around John once again. They lay down again together, the duvet once again pulled up to cover the both of them, and closed their eyes to sleep.

"I'm sorry for waking you again Rog." John whispered quietly, still ridden with guilt over waking his friend.

"Deaks, you know that it's not a big deal." 

"But, thanks anyway, for putting up with my antics." 

After a slight pause, Roger spoke again, "Anytime."

They once again closed their eyes and nodded off, to be awakened in the morning by loud banging and laughter from the kitchen.


	9. "There is a certain taste to it."

It was a Friday, which meant that they were going out for a date. It was an odd numbered day, which meant that it was Freddie's turn to choose where they went.

As it usually was with Freddie, he had decided on a decadent five star restaurant in the middle of London, with a fancy dress code and a menu to suit.

The inside was decorated with dark woods contrasted with the light colours of the walls. The tables had a scarlet red table cloth on them, with a fancy gold candelabra and a bouquet of roses to decorate.

The atmosphere of the restaurant seemed slightly stifling for Brian, who grew up in a middle class family, and had never had the money for such luxury.

It was silent, the only sounds were the clicking of cutlery on the plates, no one was speaking. It felt a bit impersonal to Brian, who always enjoyed dates with character and personality.

Freddie seemed excited, he had been excited to go to this restaurant since it opened a few months ago, and had been dying to see what exotic foods they had to offer.

It began with the starter, miniscule sizes of slightly overcooked vegetables served with a very salty pesto and finely cut mozzarella cheese, with a side drizzle with olive oil

The portion sizes were so small, Brian wondered if he would still be hungry after eating dinner. He also wondered how it was that Freddie looked so happy with his scallops cooked in white wine and served with dijon mustard and cauliflower florets.

The whole menu sounded unbearable pretentious and arrogant, "Lobster avocado truffles rolled in coloured peppercorns, served with lemon juice." _Served with lemon juice_? Who _actually_ eats that? 

Then they moved onto the dinner. His order arrived promptly for a mostly full restaurant, and consisted of a large square plate drizzled with some kind of sauce and a tiny portion of parmesan coated salmon on a bed of lettuce and zucchini mash. 

The lettuce was on the bottom, being crushed by the weight of the zucchini mash and salmon, and it was all stacked precariously in the centre of the plate. 

Brian had to admit that the main was certainly tasty, but it didn't satisfy him at all. He didn't know who actually ate zucchini mash, and it was awfully fancy, but it was quite nice.

Freddie got himself some steak tartare, which Brian looked upon in disdain - it was just some raw meat mixed with raw egg. Ridiculously expensive, and ridiculously pretentious.

The meal ended with some dessert, and both of them ordered some tiramisu, which came in petite glasses, reminiscent of champagne glasses, and was mostly made up of heavy whipped cream, which Brian struggled to eat from how fatty if felt in his mouth. 

It was when they were driven home after the date that they actually talked. 

"That was one of the worst dates I've ever been on Fred," Brian complained in the back of the car.

Freddie chose his words carefully, "There is a certain taste to it, but it's not awful darling."

"That's not true, and you know if, you couldn't even speak without being excommunicated!" Brian burst out.

Freddie just laughed, the prick, "It wasn't that bad Bri, stop complaining."

Well, Brian wasn't the one complaining when Freddie was sick from food poisoning the next day.


	10. "Listen, I can't explain it, you'll have to trust me."

It was a normal day when Roger had ran up to Brian, no explanation whatsoever, and had dragged him from the library to wherever he was going.

"Roger! Where are we going!"

"Listen, I can't explain right now, you'll just have to trust me." Roger had his "serious" face on, and was looking at Brian with intensity. 

Brian nodded slowly, he still wasn't convinced that he really needed to be dragged away from his studies, but he couldn't do much about it. 

He was dragged to the tube station, he was dragged from tube station, through the throngs of people lining the streets, across all of Kensington before finally arriving back at the flat.

Roger placed his finger to his lips to indicate how quiet Brian was supposed to be, before taking out his key and inserting it into the dodgy lock and twisting it jerkily a few times and pushing against the door at the same time. It took five minutes to open the door, which, to be fair, was a shorter time than usual, and Brian was hit with the urge to applaud Roger's door-opening skills.

They crept through the flat, and made.their way towards the bedrooms, where Brian could hear some barely muffled swearing. 

He approached Freddie and Rogers's room, the door was closed, but that did little to dampen the sound from the inside. From what Brian could hear it seemed like something was going on with their singer. 

Roger opened the door hesitantly, "Fred?" He spoke timidly, "I brought Bri?" The cadence of his voice rose at the end of the sentence. 

Brian peaked around Roger's body which was blocking the view into the room. 

Brian wanted to be positive, but there was no making the situation any better. The room was a mess. There were clothes spread all over the floor, covering, and covered by, towels, textbooks, all kinds of trash. 

"...Do you need… help with… that...?" Brian's voice breaks through the oppressive silence that hung between him, Roger and Freddie. 

"Yes! … I mean, I'd appreciate that Bri." Freddie began enthusiastically, before gaining a bit of composure. 

It ended up that Brian was the one that tidied up the entire room while Freddie and Roger messed about, giggling in the corner. Probably about their success in getting Brian to do their bidding. 

He's so weak to their combined puppy eyes and pathetic speeches. 

He guesses that's what he gets for being best friends with Freddie and Roger.


	11. "It's not always like this."

It was Crystal's first day on the job, and it's not like he's nervous, he's just worried about what his employer will be like.

He's worried that he'll be violent and angry and disrespectful. He's not expecting much from a group called _ Queen. _He's really expecting just a bunch of queers in their androgynous clothing and eyeliner. 

When he first sees his employer, he knows that he's gay. _ Has _to be. There's no way a straight man would wear such clothing and would sound that way and talk that way and just… _ be _that way. 

He's so flaming queer that Crystal doesn't even ask if he is, he just knows. 

It's on his first day he (doesn't) confirm his suspicions, mostly because he already knew. He's already been introduced to Roger and Brian and Freddie and John, so he sort of knows what to expect.

He arrives earlier than he's meant to, and what he sees is Roger, Freddie and John lying on the ground, a bottle of vodka being passed between them while they cry to each other about grievances.

He's stood in shock, frozen in the doorway. He stays stood there for what feels like hours, but is probably just a few seconds. 

He's interrupted from his musings by a sheepish but warm smile sent his way from Brian, who's trying to get past him into the room. 

"Don't worry Chris, it's not always like this." Brian comforts the shell-shocked Crystal.

"Just call me Crystal," Crystal corrects automatically, his voice distant.

Brian pats him on the shoulder before continuing into the room and sitting down on the sofa, and began to read a book that was left on the coffee table.

It took another few seconds before Roger noticed him standing there. 

"Crystal! Come sit with me!" Roger tried to sit up, scoot backwards and pat the floor beside him, but failed miserably, falling down with a sharp exhale.

Crystal snorted slightly at Roger's failed attempt at sitting up, before making his way towards Roger, Freddie and John. He helped Roger sit up (by dragging him up) and sat down beside him. 

"You… y'know Crys… I'm not… I'm not gay," Roger's drunken rambling once again shocked Crystal into silence, "Everyone thinks I am, but I'm not."

"... I was expecting a group full of queers from a name like Queen, and you've just ruined my hopes and dreams Rog, I hope you're aware of that."

Roger snorted slightly before laughing himself sick. Literally. He was actually sick. 

Crystal was the one that had to clean up. That was his job. Overall, an absolutely awful first day on the job.


	12. "What if I don't see it?"

"What if I don't see it?"

"You will."

"But… what if I don't?" The panic is evident.

"Why are you worrying about this?" 

"It's just… it's something that you like, and I want to be good at it."

"Oh Rog… it's okay if you don't see it, but I'm sure you will."

There's a sharp intake of breath.

"I don't wanna disappoint you Bri." It's whispered and for a moment Roger's sure Brian couldn't hear him.

A sigh.

"Is this really about the 3d images?" Brian asks after a minute.

A subtle shake of the head.

A tear-filled voice, "Why… why would you even want to be with me? You _ know_ what I'm like."

"What do you mean Rog?" 

"It's just… I'm _ me _ and you're you and it shouldn't work." His whisper is raspy and teary.

"Being you shouldn't be a bad thing Rog. _I_ love you."

"But _ why _?" Roger's voice raises to a shout. 

"Because you're beautiful, on the inside and outside, and you're kind and thoughtful and I know you love me." 

"But I'm none of that." He's back to a pitiful whisper.

It's Brian's turn to raise his voice, "But you are! You might not know it but you are!" 

He can tell that Roger doesn't believe him, "You are." Brian's quiet now.

There's nothing but silence from Roger now.

"... You know I love you?" Brian whispers into the void.

A sharp nod.

"Then why won't you _ believe _ me when I tell you all these things?!" Brian's pleading now, he's desperate.

"Because I'm none of those things, and soon you'll realise it and leave me." After a long silence Roger speaks again.

"I'll never leave you Rog. Never."


	13. "I never knew it could be this way."

It was curiously empty in the living room of the flat. The lights were turned off and silence reigned - for once, everyone was asleep. There were empty glasses left on the coffee table, along with a range of magazines, textbooks and various paraphernalia. 

The sofa was a mess of cushions and a giant constellation throw blanket, all of it hiding the hideous dark brown of the sofa. The rug was recently vacuumed and clean, hiding the floor that had seen better days. 

The light turned on. It was a dim light bulb that was bought for next to nothing and was hotter than it was bright, it barely illuminated the surroundings in its faded orange glow. 

There was a chill in the air felt only by the occupant who had just entered, and the curtains swayed from the breeze coming through the open window. 

The man first turned to close the window before turning towards the sofa and burying himself beneath the blanket and between the massive amount of pillows. He closed his eyes. He never knew it could be this way. He still didn’t really believe that it could be.

He knew that it would all fall apart eventually, it was hard enough being faithful to one person, let alone four. And professional differences always, _ always _seeped into personal relationships. Friendships were easier to maintain than relationships. 

He couldn’t stand the others’ easy acceptance of this development, their lack of questioning about how they would continue something as taboo as a polygamous gay relationship; about if it was open, because everyone knew of all of their insatiable natures; about if it was just sex, or something more.

It didn’t feel like something more at the moment. It felt like he was the only one that realized that something was wrong, that they were still just friends that had sex sometimes. They were still just friends. 

Nothing changed. Nothing was different than it was. And he couldn’t stand the perpetual anxiety surrounding all of what they were doing, he couldn’t stand the uncertainty, the hesitation. He was sick of it. 

He would have been happier being alone than he is in this at the moment. He would be happier sleeping with everything that moved than he is with this. 

He’s not sure it’s worth it. He’s not sure that doing this is worth the hurt, the pain, the constant second guessing. But he’s too much of a coward to be the one to ruin the others’ happiness. He’s too much of a coward to speak up his pain, to enlighten the others. 

He can’t be the one to prematurely ruin something that’s heading that way eventually. Even if it would be a mercy for everyone, no one would think of it that way.

His sadness is nothing compared to what the others think of the relationship, to how they feel. 

He falls asleep. The room is lit by the dim orange glow of a cheap halogen bulb, the coffee table covered in dirty glasses and magazines, textbooks and other paraphernalia. The sofa was a mess of cushions and a giant constellation throw blanket, all of it hiding the hideous dark brown of the sofa, on it sleeping one man. 

Three others are asleep in the bedroom.


	14. "I can't come back."

It was a typical Saturday morning in the Queen flat. 

**12am.** No one's home.

**1am.** The flat is empty and quiet, though there is a mess strewn about from preparations for another night out.

**2am.** Brian May can't ever go back to the pub they were in following the embarrassment of Roger's ridiculous fight over nothing in particular.

**3am.** John Deacon can't get to sleep with the overwhelming noise his flatmates are creating in the living room. Brian May is asleep.

**4am.** Freddie Mercury is getting slightly sober, so he and Roger go out once more. John Deacon is still battling wakefulness.

**5am.** John Deacon finally falls asleep after Roger and Freddie leave.

**6am.** Brian May's alarm sounds for him to get up and do his volunteering at a local animal shelter. John Deacon jerks awake.

**7am.** Roger Taylor eventually makes his way back to the flat once more after one of his drunken hook-ups. Freddie Mercury found his way back half an hour ago, though he couldn't seem to find his bed.

**8am.** Freddie Mercury falls asleep on top of Roger. John Deacon makes breakfast, eating it alone while nursing an awful headache from lack of sleep.

**9am.** John Deacon goes to work at an electronics store not far from their flat. He's functioning on three cups of coffee. Brian May arrives again to the flat after his shift at the animal shelter. 

**10am.** Freddie Mercury and Roger Taylor are due to work at the market at around this time. They're asleep. Brian goes away to a uni lecture at Imperial.

**11am.** Brian May is at the uni lecture. John Deacon is working. Freddie Mercury and Roger Taylor finally wake up, take "swift" showers and hurry to work. 

A typical Saturday morning.


	15. "That's what I'm talking about!"

"No, Brian, it's not like that," John played a riff on his bass, "it's like this." Once more, John played the same riff but with a slightly different rhythm.

"Deaks, how about -" Roger tried to interject into the argument between the two band mates.

"No, it doesn't fit that way John, then the phrase has too many beats." Brian stated factually, his tone deceptively patient. 

Again, Roger tried to input his opinion, "Well, you see Bri it would -" he was once more interrupted.

"Brian, I understand that you're a guitarist, but you don't play bass. It won't work the way you're playing it!" John responded to Brian's statement, his tone biting and to the point.

Roger continually tried to interrupt their argument with his failed suggestions. 

"I mean, Bri, if you think you know better, go ahead, be my guest!" Deaky sarcastically spoke to Brian, gesturing towards the guitar.

"Oh, I intend to!" Brian shouted back, intent on proving himself to John.

Roger finally gave up on trying to make his opinion known and flopped down into the couch beside Freddie, who immediately wrapped his arms around Roger while still enjoying the sight before him.

"I feel your pain darling," Freddie spoke softly to Roger, who relaxed back into him. They continued to watch the entertainment before them.

" - 'cause you always get your way Brian! Maybe you should think of what other people are saying!" They tuned back into the quarrel to hear John yelling at Brian.

"Both of you should," Roger grumbled to himself, making Freddie laugh quietly, Roger feeling the vibrations against his back.

"How about this one then?!" Brian angrily played the riff with yet another rhythm. John paused in his coming rebuttal to listen properly to the riff.

"... That might actually work." John seemed slightly reluctant to admit that to everyone present. His face showed his unwillingness to say 

"Oh come on! That was what I was talking about!" Roger exclaimed and sat up slightly upon hearing the riff. 

"We'll, unfortunately Rog, you just didn't speak up about it," Brian spoke teasingly. 

Roger just huffed and flopped back onto Freddie and pouted, turning back to him to demand cuddles for the awful injustice he had went through. 

He just flipped them the bird when he heard laughing from the peanut gallery. 

He had the worst band mates in the world.


	16. "Listen. No, really listen."

"Can you hear that?" Freddie interrupted, causing everyone to fall silent and try to find out what he was hearing.

They had a rare day out after a hectic week of concerts and obligations with the press. They were situated in a hotel in the middle of nowhere, playing scrabble and relaxing. 

The hotel, according to the roadies who had supposedly heard it from the locals, was haunted, after some dude had killed himself in one of the rooms. 

There was really no evidence to suggest the hotel was haunted, and the most likely scenario was that the Queen roadies were pulling their leg, but once the idea was planted… well, everyone knows what happens.

At the moment it was silent in the hotel room after Freddie's interrogative, and the other occupants of the room, namely Brian, John and Roger, who had stopped their conversations in response to his question, were now looking at Freddie in skepticism when no sound was forthcoming.

Brian decided to speak up after a few seconds of silence, "You're probably hearing things Fred," he seemed slightly reluctant to say it.

"Listen!" Freddie insisted hurriedly. Upon being met with skepticism from the others, he reinforced his imperative, "No,  _ really  _ listen!" 

He was shot numerous looks as they closed their eyes slowly, as if to humour him. 

Everyone felt very silly with sitting in a silent hotel room with their eyes closed. 

Then, suddenly, a knock came from somewhere outside the room.

A high-pitched girlish scream came from Roger when he heard the sound, and then a thump as he hit the wall. He wasn't the only one who shrieked in fear, Freddie had also let out a slight scream, but he was by far the loudest and shrillest. 

It took another minute for Roger to properly calm down following his scare, and even then he seemed shaky and afraid. The others refrained from teasing him about the scare upon seeing how shaken he was. 

"Ratty said the hotel was haunted, didn't he?" John spoke quietly, he was also scared of what had happened, but he was also more reasonable about it.

"Of course it's haunted!" Roger snapped in agitation and anxiety, "That wasn't just me!" His rebutal forced a slight scowl into John's face as he prepared for another argument. 

Brian quickly broke up the brewing argument, "We can't fight now, if the place is really haunted, then we can't split up," he was met with reluctant nods and grim faces. 

They stood up quietly and made their way out of the room. The corridor lights were turned off and the whole hotel gave off a creepy vibe.

Freddie felt Roger begin to shake beside him, and he intertwined their hands to calm him down. He felt the shaking subside slightly as Roger squeezed his hand. 

They continued in the direction of the main stairwell when the knocking started up once more, and everyone tensed, looking around to find the source of the sound.

The lights suddenly turned on as their roadies jumped out at them. Brian and John swore loudly and flinched away from them once they saw them, but were very good natured about the whole thing.

Roger and Freddie on the other hand were clinging to each other, eyes screwed tightly shut and screams being wrenched from their throats. The loud noise was only interrupted by the laughter of everyone else who was there at their reaction.

Freddie quickly forgave the roadies, and admitted that it was a good joke. Roger on the other hand didn't speak to Crystal for three weeks, but could see the amusement looking back, though he never admitted it.

And relaxation did happen the next day as Roger and Freddie voices were wrecked from the screaming. Which was unfortunate given that they were on tour. 

But at least they had an adventure. (And a funny story to embarrass Roger.)


	17. "There is just something about him."

"There's just something about him…" Roger trailed off from his hissed whisper to Brian, still staring straight at Tim's friend Freddie. 

Brian moved away from Roger stightly to look at him with a raised eyebrow in response to his suspicions, "Roger, he's a five ten skinny artist I doubt he'll stab you in your sleep." He deadpanned. 

Roger narrowed his eyes at Brian, trying to look intimidating, instead looking like a pissed off kitten, "Watch it Brian, you don't know what he might be capable of." He was still speaking in a whisper. 

Brian snorted quietly, Roger was obviously paranoid, he was being ridiculous, "Yeah, okay, 'don't judge a book by it's cover,' right?" 

"Exactly!" Roger nearly shouted, drawing the attention of Tim and Freddie who were talking to each other at the other side of the table. 

Roger quickly apologized sheepishly before once more turning to hiss to Brian, "He might look like an innocent little flower, but I bet you that he's definitely not." 

Brian nodded warily in response. His confirmation seemed to satisfy Roger who immediately went back to talking about whatever came to mind. 

\-----

It was a few weeks later that Brian had came to Roger's flat to discuss a guitar riff he had come up with not too long ago. He'd arrived with the Special in her case and the riff playing at his fingers. 

Roger had given him a key the last time he had woken him up at three am knocking at the door, so he opened the door and walked right in. 

He regretted that. 

Roger and Freddie, Tim's artist friend, were were making out on the sofa half naked and oblivious to Brian standing in the doorway. 

He backed away slowly and quietly shut the door, before making his way back to his flat. 

So much for Freddie being capable of stabbing Roger in his sleep.


	18. "Secrets? I love secrets."

"Well maybe if you weren't such a bastard we could get this done Roger!" The shout echoed throughout the studio, the entire room quieting down at the yell.

"Thanks a lot Deaky," Roger spat bitterly, turning to leave the room, "You've really raised my self-esteem." He spoke sarcastically, his back turned towards the other occupants of the room, before opening the door and walking outside. 

The room was silent as the distant sound of the main entrance opening and closing echoed throughout the space. Nobody said anything, and nobody dared to say anything.

Crystal spoke up, "Well, you've really cocked that one up," his tone was cynical at best, and biting at worst. John flinched and looked guiltily towards the door, curling in upon himself.

He looked up pathetically, "I didn't mean it, really," Crystal snorted skeptically, "I didn't." Crystal nodded and left the room. 

"You weren't exactly the nicest dear," Freddie spoke gently so as not to startle John.

He was quickly interrupted by Brian, "Oh, cut the bullshit Fred, you went a bit far with that one." Brian turned away back to his guitar, ignoring John. 

Tears started filling John's eyes, he really didn't know what came over him. He had no idea why he started his tirade against Roger, he was just so stressed lately, and Roger's mistake in the rhythm had caused something inside of him to snap.

"I… I don't know what came over me." His voice was quiet and pitiful, "I just… I couldn't handle it today." He seemed ashamed and pathetic.

Freddie made his way towards John, and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, "Don't worry darling, Roger will forgive you when you apologise," he seemed hesitant to speak, and to make assumptions on Roger's reaction to John's coming apology.

"But what if he doesn't?" It's whispered into the void filling the room. 

Silence greets him.

"... Why'd you even say it?" Freddie questions, evading John's question.

John wishes he knew. He knows that somewhere deep inside his anger at Roger is justified, somehow, but he can't seem to figure out why.

"Is it a secret? You know I love secrets, I'll never tell~" his voice trills a slight cadence at the end, allowing John to laugh slightly, before falling silent once more.

"I don't know why Freddie, I wish I could tell you." He's still quiet and his voice sounds slightly sad, the silence of the room stifling his voice.

Freddie just looks at him sadly.


	19. "Yes, I admit it, you were right."

"Yes, okay, alright! I can admit that you were right about that one Brian, but don't you dare think that means I've forgiven you," John threatened. 

Brian just smiled smugly at him, undeterred by John's vitriolic remark, "Of course John." His tone was self-satisfied. 

John threw his hands up in annoyance, before stalking away indignantly, "You're sleeping on the couch tonight!" He shouted from outside the room. Brian's smile fell off his face, he was hoping that today he'd no longer be banned from the bed. 

"Can I at least have the spare room?" He pleaded, he hadn't slept properly in a few days, and his back had been killing him - he was simply too tall to sleep on the sofa. 

There was no answer from John. Brian sighed in resignation, hopefully he would finally be allowed back in the bed tomorrow. But he doubted that, Deaky could really hold a grudge, and it would probably be a while before he was forgiven. 

It wasn't even that bad, just a few remarks on the guitar tone, the bass tone, the drums. Actually, looking back, he probably deserved John's ire, Roger had simply snarked back and continued doing what he was doing - John took it a bit more harshly, a bit more personally. 

He entered the bedroom quietly, John was sitting at the edge of the bed, head in his hands, he seemed to be silently crying. Brian was immediately concerned, he knew that this wasn't just about the comments during recording.

"What's really going on?" He questioned lightly, settling down beside his boyfriend.

It was silent for a moment between them. 

"Why is it always me?" 

"Sorry?" Brian isn't sure what John means, he's not being very specific.

"Why is it always me you criticise? Why is it always me? It's never Freddie, and it's rarely Roger so why is it always me?" John's hysterical, he's looking up into Brian's eyes, trying to find an answer.

Brian has none to give. He hadn't ever noticed doing it, he'd only ever remarked on things he'd noticed, things he thought needed to be fixed. 

Maybe that's why. (But no. He loves John, as he is, and as he always will be.)

"I… never noticed." He admits reluctantly, "I don't know why, but I promise you, it's not anything to do with you." He tries to reassure John, "I love you, all of you, and if for one minute you think that I don't, you're mistaken."

John's still looking at him with tear filled eyes. "I promise," Brian whispers. 

John lays his head on Brian's shoulder and wraps his arms around him, leaving them hugging uncomfortably.

"I know you do."


	20. "You could talk about it, you know?"

Roger wiped his eyes discretely - he hoped that no one had noticed him beginning to cry in the middle of his physics class. 

It wasn't that it was a particularly bad day that day, it was just a lot of things piling up on top of him at once. He had gotten hardly any sleep the night before, he had three tests and he'd just gotten humiliated by his physics teacher in front of the whole class. 

He hadn't even noticed he was crying until he'd reached up and felt how wet his face was. His notes in front of him weren't wet or stained with tears, and the only evidence was his shiny cheeks and damp fingers were he'd tried to wipe his face.

It wasn't like he was planning on doing physics for the rest of his life, drumming was his passion, and besides that, he didn't really do well in any of the subjects he was doing.

He wasn't going to break down in class.

He wasn’t. He refused to let himself go down to that level. He didn’t care that his breathing was ragged, that his tears kept silently running down his face, he wasn’t going to break down.

He didn’t even know why he was crying. (That was a lie, he knew why he just doesn’t think he could talk about it. Or admit it to anyone, not even to himself.)

Besides, his issues weren’t important in the long run. Who even needs to learn physics anyway? Physics wasn’t important, and neither was he. 

He curses himself for falling into the self-destructive spiral of thoughts that his mother always berates him for falling into. His father never really cared. (He’d probably be glad that Roger could see the reality of his situation.)

Class passes all too slowly for Roger, who at once wants school to never end (he really doesn’t want to go home), and finish up so he can get out of the awful, humiliating, embarrassing situation he’s gotten himself in. (So he can break down in peace.)

The humiliating panic attack he has in the toilets after class is let out isn’t ever going to be something he’s proud of. He’ll never tell anyone. 

It’s coming out of the cubical that Roger sees someone standing right there, and his heart sinks. It was too much to hope for some time alone, for no one to be there when he comes out of the toilet. For no one to hear him be vulnerable. 

The boy doesn’t smirk cheekily, doesn’t threaten to tell everyone in the school that Roger Taylor is a little pussy who cries in the bathrooms. He looks worried, he looks concerned. And that’s not right. It’s not right for someone to worry about Roger - Roger can take care of himself, he has all his life - it’s Roger’s job to take care of others. (Like when his mother drinks herself into a stupor. Like when his little sister comes to him when she can’t sleep, when the bullies get bad, when their father shouts a little too loud, hits a little too hard.) 

The boy steps forward carefully, his footsteps measured, and no matter how much Roger tries he can’t contain his flinch, his instincts too ingrained. The boy stops after he sees the flinch, and he doesn’t try to get any closer. 

Roger stays frozen for another few seconds, before finally jerking himself out of his headspace and walking stiffly towards the taps. His gait is shaky and his legs are wobbling, the other boy makes no move towards him, and even though he can’t say it (and he most definitely won’t) he’s eternally grateful for the other’s tact and his understanding (however much of it is faked because it always is.) 

He flinches once more when the taller boy speaks up, “If you want, you could… talk about it? You know?” his voice is soft, gentle where Roger’s is harsh, caring where Roger’s is apathetic. Now that Roger is properly looking at him, he recognises him from when he sometimes talks to his physics teacher when Roger has class. 

Roger can’t bring himself to speak. He shakes his head slightly, his eyes downcast once more. He tries to push past the older boy to get out of the bathroom, to get out of this place, to get out of these feelings, to leave his body for a while, to stop feeling everything this intensely. 

The moment the other boy touches Roger’s arm to stop him from leaving, to tell him something else, to speak to him, Roger’s body immediately jerks away from the other, flinching at the touch, shaking his head, vibrating his entire body, preparing for the pain that will inevitably come. 

He breathing comes in gasps and shudders and he’s aware of the curly-haired boy trying desperately to calm him down, he obviously doesn’t know that Roger doesn’t calm down from panic attacks - he just passes out for a few seconds. The other’s panic and inexperience is evident, and Roger wants to tell him to leave him alone, to not come near him, to not speak to him, to keep this experience to himself, to not look at him ever again. 

It’s when he finally manages to calm his breathing that the boy introduces himself. Roger snorts to himself, of course  _ Brian May _ , physics extraordinaire, would be the one to find him in the bathroom after his disastrous physics lesson. Irony. 

He manages to blurt out his name in his ridiculously high voice that still hasn’t broken, raspy from how much crying he’s been doing in the past hour. 

He’s dragged up from the floor by Brian, and he helps him clean himself up after his embarrassing breakdowns. 

They don’t really speak after that, all that’s said is Brian inviting him to sit with him and his friends at lunch. That he can speak to him whenever. And Roger appreciates that more than he can ever express. 

He might actually enjoy school a bit now. (Just a bit.)


	21. "Change is annoyingly difficult."

For Freddie, change was easy. It was a part of life that was inevitable, and it was a part of life that Freddie was intimately familiar with, from the move from Zanzibar to England to the constantly changing music styles Queen experimented with.

Change wasn’t something that Freddie worried about - he didn’t see change as a thing he should worry about, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. So he couldn’t understand other people’s stance against change. 

Some people couldn’t understand the beauty of going with whatever life throws at you, some people had to control everything in their life, had to control everything and everyone around them. 

He thinks that Roger is the closest to his mindset, that he understands where he comes from, that he understands what he’s thinking. (When they met Freddie thought that maybe there was something there.)

It was Roger that made him feel welcome in London, that welcomed him into his home, welcomed the storm of change into his band, into his heart. 

It’s why he’s so shocked at how difficult he’s finding this recent change. Though maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised considering how much his best friend and greatest confidant is distancing himself from him. 

He knew that disco wasn’t Roger’s scene, but he wouldn’t have expected Roger to be so against this recent change. Roger was always one to go along with the circumstances he was presented with - he moped about them, ranted about them, but he was an optimist at heart - which was part of the reason that Freddie found this change so annoyingly difficult.

Except Freddie was scared that Roger was finding this change just as hard as he was, scared that Roger wasn’t coping with the change properly. Roger never took being ignored or forgotten well, and the fact that he wasn’t protesting, shouting through the roof at the injustice of the drum machine was disconcerting.

Maybe Roger had finally learnt some tact (though Freddie doubted that), maybe he thought that his problems were insignificant. Maybe he felt that he couldn’t talk to Freddie about his feelings anymore, considering how Freddie was leading the metaphoric ship of Hot Space.

He hoped Roger would come talk to him. He was finding this silence from his other half hard. He was finding it hard to cope with silence where there was once endless chatter. 

This change was the most difficult one he’s ever had to go through. He hoped it would be over soon. 


	22. "We could have a chance."

There was no point in continuing fighting, Roger had already given up. It wasn’t that he didn’t love John, it was that he couldn’t keep on going like this. They were better when they were just friends, the toxic relationship they were cultivating ruining them. 

It just felt like Roger couldn’t take a break, any free time he had he spent sleeping rather than doing something fun. He felt drained after trying to force something that didn’t work to work. He just… couldn’t stand it. 

He gave all of himself to John, and it felt like he had nothing for himself - no free time, no friends, no nothing. And sometimes it felt like there was no time for them to actually be together, to bond as a couple, to talk. 

They didn’t know each other’s limits, they didn’t know what the other wanted, it just felt like it was all decided for them. There was no communication between them - going through the motions day by day. They didn’t have the chemistry necessary for a romantic relationship. 

And Roger really loved John. Maybe he just wasn’t good enough for someone like him? Maybe if he changed himself for John, then they would be good, maybe then they could recapture the beauty and light of their earlier relationship, the magic that they had in the seventies. 

John was right anyway, it wasn’t like Roger was one for proper relationships. All of this culminating in an excruciating conversation Roger doesn’t want to be a part of - he’s sure that John’s going to break up with him. They should have had the conversation years ago anyway, maybe if they talked about it a few years ago then they could have done something about it. 

Maybe they had been together too long to break up. Roger both hoped it was true and hoped that it wasn’t. He couldn’t stand this constant uncertainty colouring their relationship. 

They had the dreaded conversation after a full day of barely speaking to each other. Roger could feel the tension between them brewing. 

“We aren’t working.” Roger starts after an uncomfortable silence. He wants the relationship to stop, lately, he’s always sad and lonely in their empty house, nothing in it cheering him up. He has to be blunt because if he doesn’t say it outright, he doesn’t think he’ll ever say it.

“Don’t say that,” John’s voice is weak, no conviction behind his statement, “We could have a chance.”

“There’s no chance for us.” There was nothing to fight for. 

It wasn’t sad. It wasn’t filled with heartbreak. It was just filled with empty feelings and a sense of inevitability. It wasn’t like they were going to last forever. 

Roger had hoped they would, once.


	23. "You can't give more than yourself."

"I could do more." He could do more. He could actually help his friends sort out whatever was going on between them rather than sit here and do nothing.

"You've already done all you could." Brian isn't willing to consider John's words, he hasn't done all he could - he's done so little.

"But…" If Freddie and Roger break up, that could mean the end of the band.

"No, Bri, you've already given all of yourself, let me take care of you for a change." It's not that he's against being pampered by his boyfriend (who isn't) but that he couldn't handle the guilt if the worst happens.

"But, what about Fred and Roger?" He's got to  _ help _ them.

"You've got to let them sort it out themselves, love. Just relax." Relaxing really isn't on Brian's list of priorities at the moment, "I'm sure if both Freddie and Roger found out about how stressed you are they'd tell you to take a break."

Even if they told him to stop, he wouldn't be able to - it's not in his nature.

John speaks once more, "Their bond is too strong for them to break up anyway Bri." Brian supposes that John's right and this is just a bump in the road.

But it's a bump that's causing a rift in the band that is causing so much stress for Brian, he can't seem to catch a break - both of his best friends are struggling, and Brian has to help.

"Just let me take care of you." And so Brian lets go. Falling back into the loving arms of his beautiful boyfriend.


	24. "Patience... is not something I'm known for."

It isn't that Roger doesn't care about what they're doing, it's just that it's so  _ boring _ . Managing their finances and meetings with management were the worst part of being an internationally successful rock band. 

Roger really couldn’t wait until they got home and got into doing more…  _ fun  _ stuff. And who could blame him? Meetings were just so boring and Roger wasn’t into boring things. He was into excitement and adrenaline and sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. And at the moment there was none of those things present. 

Roger just wanted to get fucked, was that too much to ask for? Apparently yes because he was stuck in the middle of a serious discussion about the next tour. He tried to catch Brian’s attention for them to hurry up but ultimately failed. Or Brian was ignoring him. Either way, it meant that Roger was going to be stuck here for another while.

The meeting continued dragging on, and Roger could see Crystal laughing at how bored Roger looked. Flipping Crystal off, Roger rolled his eyes and tried his best to pay attention to the matter at hand, before quickly getting lost in whatever the hell they were talking about.

He was just so  _ bored.  _ He thinks that if this goes on any longer he’ll not be in the mood after getting back home, and that would be the greatest travesty. 

The meeting runs overtime a few hours, and by the time it’s done Roger is ready to fall into bed and sleep forever, he hasn’t done anything which requires energy today, but his day has been so tiring. 

He can hear the others laughing behind him when they see him rushing towards the car, swiftly opening the door and jumping inside.

“Impatient, or we?” Brian’s simultaneously flirty and teasing remark does nothing for Roger, who at this point is so drained that he couldn’t get it up if he wanted to. 

He hums in agreement, “Patience… isn’t something I’m known for.” He doesn’t even realise how the remark could be taken flirtatiously, innuendos are slightly past him at the moment.

When they eventually arrive home, Roger’s relief must show on his face, because he can hear Brian, John and Freddie giggling behind him. He rushes out of the car and into the house, sprinting up the stairs into their bedroom, discarding clothing along the way.

He flops down onto the bed with a sigh of relief and a long yawn. He can hear Freddie, Brian and John scaling the stairs loudly, laughter and chatter passing effortlessly between them. He snuggles underneath the thick duvet and blanket, the soft sheets heaven on his tense muscles.

His eyes were closed already when the others entered the bedroom, and he can hear the talking immediately stop.

He can feel Brian stroke his hair softly and kiss his forehead, the action repeated by the other two. The door closes softly and whispers echo down the corridor. Roger falls asleep quickly. 

He’s so glad that the meeting didn’t go into the early hours of the morning this time. (Though usually then he had at least gotten more than an hour of sleep the night before.)


	25. "I could really eat something."

Roger could really eat something. He hadn’t eaten anything substantial in over twelve hours - it wasn’t that he was willfully ignoring his own health, it was just that he was so busy that he really didn’t have time to stop and have a meal.

His stomach cramped up, grumbling loudly, begging for food. He patted it apologetically (he was definitely going crazy) and turned to what Brian was telling him. They were all already dressed to go on stage in a few minutes. 

Even if he wanted to (which he did) he definitely wouldn’t have time to go and get something to eat other than the crackers which he had downed desperately a few hours ago. 

His stomach decided to remind him of how hungry it was by cramping painfully once again, he grimaced slightly before offering a pained smile to Brian, who had paused in whatever he was talking about to shoot Roger a look. 

He had no idea what Brian was even talking about, and most of his surroundings were already fuzzy and disoriented without adding the extra pressure of actually paying attention to whatever Brian had thought up. 

Roger hadn’t even noticed the time passing as Crystal ushered him on stage. Operating on muscle memory alone, Roger waved to the crowd gathered in front of him and made his way up the drum risers, drumsticks clenched desperately. 

He immediately charged into the first song on their setlist, thundering and full of energy, determined to give his all. The fans who’d paid good money to see them deserved their (collective) best. And Roger wasn’t going to bring the team down. 

Unfortunately, that decision was taken away from him when he passed out in the middle of drumming though it _ was _sloppy drumming. The world just turned black and he hit his head on the rim of the snare drum going down, his arm hitting the metal rim and tearing open. 

He woke up a few minutes later, being fussed over by Crystal and the band medic, his arm bandaged and his head feeling fuzzy and disoriented. He tried to sit up from wherever he was leaning before his head injury made itself known and he flopped back into the person he was leaning into. He heard the breath escape from whoever was behind him and he mentally apologised to the person that had to put up with him. 

He tried to focus on what the medic in front of him was saying, but he found himself so deprived of energy (and his awful headache wasn’t helping) that he simply couldn’t focus. 

He found himself closing his eyes, but was rudely jostled awake by Crystal who looked apologetically at him. Roger really couldn’t understand what they were saying. 

His stomach chose the perfect moment to hit him with another hunger pang, and he moaned in pain. Someone waved a chocolate bar in front of him, and Roger really would eat it, but the nausea from (what he assumed to be) his concussion chose exactly that moment to make its appearance in the most obvious way possible. 

Joy.

Roger felt someone wipe the vomit from his chin and whisper comforting words into his ear as he whimpered pathetically. 

He buried his face into someone’s side and tried to stop the tears that were threatening to come out from the pain of his head, his stomach and his arm. 

He just hoped he hadn’t ruined the show, that would be the worst possible outcome. 

At least he had this crowd of people obeying his every whim. That was good enough (for now.)


	26. "You keep me warm."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Day 20! As requested by SweetIllusions.

If Roger was being honest, nothing really changed after his embarrassing encounter with Brian May. He still floated through the school like a ghost, noticed only when it's convenient, bullied only when it's easy. 

He was still a little idiotic piece of shit that didn't understand anything that was said to him. He still did badly in class, and he had no idea how to do half the things that were asked of him in his classes. Nothing would ever change how much of a stupid bitch he was, and nothing would ever change his (imaginary) academic achievements.

Roger had thought that maybe things would be different after he had befriended one of, if not the, smartest students in the whole school. He thought that maybe things would improve, that teachers would treat him better when they knew that he was friends with _ Brian May. _He thought that maybe his prospects after school would start to look up (that maybe he would survive high school.)

And then he got home. He knew nothing would change at home. Nobody ever helped, not the primary school teachers he confided in, not the school counsellors that he was forced to see, and definitely not any friends he might have had over the years. 

He thought that maybe he would have a bit of a break, that school wouldn’t be hell, that being at school wouldn’t be barely better than being at home. Looking back, he wondered how he had ever thought that maybe things would change. Things didn’t change. They remained static.

It was just a coincidence that Brian May was in the bathroom during his breakdown. It was just a coincidence that he was nice enough to offer Roger a bit of sanctuary, even if he didn’t plan on going through with it (even if Roger didn’t deserve it.) 

Coincidences don’t mean anything, Roger reflected, and they certainly don’t mean that you’re suddenly best friends. Besides, who would ever want to be friends with such a fuck-up like Roger (a fuck-up who couldn’t even keep his sister safe, who couldn’t even stick up for himself while his father is whispering (shouting) truths about Roger’s nature) let alone Brian.

Anyway, it’s not like it matters, he’s never going to speak to Brian ever again. So why should he care? Except that’s not what happened, and Roger can’t figure out why someone like Brian would attempt to talk to someone like him. 

It’s a week after that incident, that incident involving Roger, Brian and an empty bathroom, when Brian invites Roger to sit at their table at lunch. And Roger, being the stupid idiot he is, declined. Declined an invitation to be friends with Brian May. Declined an invitation to make his school days bearable. 

But Brian didn’t give up, he kept pestering Roger about it until he eventually gave in, too tired to argue, his ribcage black and blue, his lungs short of breath and his eyes full of tears. He wasn’t expecting to be invited back after his grand debut at the “Queen” (apparently) lunch table. He wasn’t expecting to be back the day after. Or the day after that. Or the month after. 

All the while his friendship with Brian grew (along, of course, with his friendship with Freddie and John, Brian’s best friends.) He found himself relaxing more with the friend group, going out more, the guilt at leaving his sister alone at home with _ him _ rushing into him every time he eventually returned home after spending time with his friends (he never thought he’d be able to say that.)

He finds himself in Brian’s bedroom on a Wednesday afternoon, Brian having offered to tutor him for physics and maths. He can’t seem to keep himself on task, and neither, it seems, can Brian. They keep running off into tangents, not looking back and not looking forward. Living in the moment. And for the first time in forever, Roger’s thoughts aren’t infecting his brain with their vile poison. 

Their topics of conversation turn intimate and personal, the hours ticking by without abandon. It’s a whispered conversation captured for a few seconds before being let go to float into the darkness surrounding them.

“Sometimes I feel cold,” Roger confesses quietly, his voice a break in the comfortable silence that had settled over the two teens, “Sometimes I feel so cold and all I want to do is feel warm, but I turn the heat up too high and get burned.”

His confession reverberates through the air, dispersing into nothingness before the next thought is spoken aloud. They’re close together now, the intimacy overwhelming and comfortable, “But you make me feel like the cold isn’t there,” the admission is whispered and all Roger feels he can do is stare straight ahead.

“Fuck, Roger, you don’t know how warm you are and how bright you shine,” Brian’s voice echoes through the quiet, “You don’t know how much you keep me warm.” 


	27. "Can you wait for me?"

It’s not that Roger felt he was getting left behind, he just felt that maybe he was getting forgotten. Maybe the others were fine by themselves. He just wasn’t needed like the others needed each other (he just wasn’t loved like the others loved each other.)

And it wasn’t that Roger didn’t know that they loved him, of course, he did, it was just that Brian and Freddie and John loved each other more. That Roger was the weakest link. And, if he was being honest, that wasn’t such a bad thing until it tore at his mind and his insides, scraping along and leaving paths of destruction its wake, paths that took months to mend and minutes to destroy. 

Roger knew that he was the weakest link not just in their relationship. He was always the one that let the team down. Always the one whose skill set didn’t quite match up to the others. And he knew that he was talented, he was a talented vocalist, a talented drummer. But the others were better, and don’t get him wrong, that wasn’t a bad thing, but sometimes it didn’t make him feel good.

So maybe the distance in the relationship was a good thing. Everyone liked it when they were in a relationship with someone who they could brag about, someone they could show off and go, “They have a Master’s degree in astrophysics!” Not, “Look how pretty they are!”

Because Roger knew he was pretty, he knew that his biggest virtue was his looks. And sometimes he liked it when his boyfriends called him pretty, or beautiful, or gorgeous. But sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he wanted to be called smart, or clever, or intelligent (but he was none of those things, and couldn’t Roger see that?)

Brian, Freddie and John were those things. And they were also sexy and attractive and stunning. And Roger would complain that it wasn’t fair, that these things didn’t happen to normal people, that attractive people weren’t ever smart, but he couldn’t because Freddie, Brain and John were all those things, and they were humble and kind and generous, and Roger could never say anything bad about them. 

Maybe the others were right to leave him behind (not that he was getting left behind (he could keep telling himself that.)) Roger should be glad that they even associated themselves with him, even a little. That he could be welcomed into their relationship, even for a moment. 

But he just wants them to wait for him. He wants them to wait for him to catch up, because with how fast and how far ahead they are, Roger knows that he’ll never make it. He just wants them to love him like he loves them, for them to love him like they love each other. And maybe it’s too much to ask for, but it’s something that Roger needs. 

He needs them, but maybe they don’t need him. So he’ll go quietly, fade into the background of every song, be taken for granted until there’s nothing there. 

He doesn’t need to be remembered, Roger reflects, he just needs to keep them happy, and if they’re happier without him, then so be it. (He was always the weakest link, anyways.)


	28. "Enough! I heard enough."

He had had enough of the arguments. He had heard enough of them. He had participated in too many to count, he had argued enough.

It was time to stop the arguments, it was time to stop the awful habit of protesting against others’ changes to songs. There wasn’t enough time left to argue, there wasn’t enough time left to protest. Freddie was dying, and he really didn’t want to spend his last days being bombarded by arguments from his favourite boys.

But he hated that this awful illness was what stopped them from quarrelling their way through recording. That AIDs was what had motivated them to stop their stupid petty arrogance. (Freddie knew that it was wishful thinking to believe that this disturbing peace would last past his death.)

Queen was too arrogant to last. Queen was too big, too great. It was bigger, so much bigger, than the sum of its parts. The four pillars keeping the legacy alive were crumbling under the strain, and soon there would be only three, and that’s not enough.

Freddie thinks that maybe if there was no Queen John wouldn’t sink to alcoholism, Brian wouldn’t sink so deep into depression, that he wouldn’t be actively dying. (But maybe not, and Roger, sweet darling Roger, wouldn’t cope well at all in a nine to five job.) 

He hated that these four ageing queens couldn’t stop arguing except when there was no choice but to do so. Freddie hated that now it was“anything for Freddie” when before it was “Fuck off Fred.” He hated that the others treated him like he was fragile, treated him like he could die at any moment (even though he technically could.) He hated that his bandmates, his closest friends, were the greatest reminder of his illness. 

The constant lying was the worst feeling that he had ever felt, asking his friends to lie for him, asking his friends to set aside their pain like it was nothing. He could see the burden on John, from the sadness in his endless depths to the hunched shoulders and hesitant speech. He could see how hard it was for Brian to lie to millions of people, for Brian to not reveal how much he was hurting, for Brian to stop hoping for a solution. He could see the pure agony in Roger’s eyes, how he couldn’t stand staying in one place, how the endless days were getting to him.

And all they wanted was to spend time with each other, to spend the last few days argument free, to spend the last few days as four best friends who always had each other. (All they wanted was a miracle.) A miracle which wouldn’t happen, nothing would be as it was, and they would have to learn how to function without part of them. 

The burden of the legacy of Queen would eventually fall to two. Freddie would die soon, and he knew that John wasn’t going to last long, the poor boy. He hoped that Brian wouldn’t leave Roger alone in this. That Roger wasn’t going to have to grieve two (three) friends. 

But for now, it was enough. It was enough. (They had enough of the arguments, and they had participated in too many to count. But it would all be gone soon.)


	29. "I'm doing this for you!"

“You need to stop resisting!” Brian growls desperately, dragging Roger down the street, his strides long and his actions harsh. Roger was digging his heels into the pavement and was giggling hysterically.

“You know you love me!” Roger’s voice was slurred and close to unintelligible from a mix of alcohol and roofies. They had just come out of another pub were Roger was roofied and Brian was the only one who was there with him and sober enough to try and get him home. Not that he was sober. 

“So this is what happens when I do things for you, good to know.” His grumbling drew another round of giggles out of Roger who tried to reach up to pet his curls, failing miserably. His footwork was wobbly and uncoordinated, and Brian’s was barely better.

“Love you too Bri,” Roger beamed a sunny smile at Brian, and his voice was genuine and soft, a contrast to the uncaring persona he put on every night. His smile was sloppy and his voice slurred, but it was true.

The revelation made Brian stumble slightly, he wasn’t expecting anything profound this night, and most times when Roger professed his love for him he was either extremely hungover or sarcastic, he rarely opened up to even his closest friends. 

“Yeah… me too Rog.” His response was breathy and quiet. He recovered and continued helping Roger get to the flat, his grip not as rough and his demeanour thoughtful. 

The rest of the journey was quiet, and Brian was afraid that sometime in the middle of the walk Roger had fallen asleep, but no. He was still desperately dragging his feet after Brian, but his head was turned towards the pavement and his grip was slack. 

“Bri…” he spoke quietly when they had gotten to the flat and were about to part to their respective rooms, “Thanks.” he seemed more aware of his surroundings and had recovered a bit of his social awareness and tact. His face was turned away from Brian, but he could see the red on his cheeks and the embarrassed pose. 

“Always Rog, we’re friends, it’s what friends do.” His smile was soft and reassuring.

“Thanks anyway. For everything.”


	30. "I'm with you, you know that."

Roger didn’t think that it was really a thing until he saw it happening and realised that it wasn’t the first time. Not that it mattered, per se, but it did lower his confidence a little. Roger wasn’t planning on sharing it with anyone, not Brian, not Freddie, and _ definitely _not John. It was just a quirk, that was all. 

It just… it felt like it was all a lie. All the softly spoken words said during cold winter mornings, all the whispered “I love you”s in the dark, all the passion-filled nights. They felt invalidated. 

Maybe it was for the best, John and Freddie would be better together than he and John ever could be, and, if that was the case, Roger wished them well. He just wanted to know what he did wrong, what was so wrong with him that John couldn’t even tell him that he no longer loved him. 

Because Roger was sure that that was what was happening. What else would cause John to stop supporting what he was saying? What else would provoke the avoidance? Nothing. 

He’s not surprised that it happened anything, everyone eventually leaves him. He already knew that no one could _ really _stand his company, but he thought that John was a flaw, a quirk, something special. He thought that they were meant to be. 

But no. They weren’t. 

Roger supposed that nothing could have stopped John from leaving. Not that he had left yet, but he would leave. Everyone left. 

He supposes that when John leaves, Queen will break up. It’ll be a clean break, Roger will make sure of it, but even then, he thinks that the tension will be too great. And Roger knows John, he knows that he’ll leave Queen if he thinks it’s too stifling, or if he thinks Roger’s hurting.

It’s his fault that John isn’t with him anyway. Well, he’s with him, but he’s not really supporting him like he used to, and isn’t that the whole point?

It all comes to a head. As all things do, really. With Roger feeling creatively and emotionally stifled by the lack of support on his end, and with no one there to help him make his voice heard over the loud voices of Brian and Freddie. The percussion and bass have to stick together, but lately they seem so apart, and Roger can’t stand the loneliness.

It feels like he’s being ignored, and forgotten in the frantic songwriting energy of the trio at the other side of the room. He’s so lost in his head that he doesn’t even notice when John comes up to him and asks him what’s wrong. He doesn’t even hear him over the din of self-pity in the corner. 

John repeats himself, and this time Roger answers. As noncommittally as he ever did, and he can feel the restrained aggravation on John’s side as he rebukes his response.

And Roger has no choice but to open up. Because John will keep on asking and persisting, and eventually it’ll be more than John circling, questioning, suffocating. So he explains, and his explanation lacks more than clarity. It’s not concise, and it doesn’t even make sense. 

“Hey, hey, no, Roger, calm down, okay?” John comforts his gasping sobs quietly, his voice soft and careful, “I… I didn’t know you felt like this.” the slight accusatory tone that John is trying to hide comes through, and Roger really doesn’t know how to deal with this.

“I’m with _ you,_ you know that. I love you,” John reassures, his voice once more calming and mellow, “And it’s not Freddie that I fell in love with, it’s you. And I’m sorry for not making that clear.” Roger’s breathing begins to calm as he falls into John’s warm embrace.

Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe at least one person will stay, maybe one person won’t leave him. Maybe it’s not Roger against the world. (Maybe it’s Roger and John against the world.)


	31. "Scared, me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's lasted this long reading my little pet project! Thanks to everyone who left a comment and to everyone who left kudos, you guys are the best. Thank you, and goodnight!

It wasn't what most would call a  _ large  _ party, but it certainly wasn’t small. Halloween parties were typically larger than this one, but it was slightly larger at the beginning since a lot of people decided that they weren’t going to stay for a number of reasons, ranging from “Mum wants me home by eight” to “Sorry mate, you know what Grace is like.” Which wasn’t really a valid excuse. 

The party wound down to a few general groups of people and a few others that had stayed behind getting either extremely drunk or extremely high. Or both. 

One was a group of upperclassmen consisting of Chris “Crystal” Taylor, Peter “Phoebe” Freestone, Peter “Ratty” Hince and Joe Fanneli. Another consisted of Freddie Mercury, Roger Taylor, John Deacon and Brian May. 

Seeing as everyone currently at the party was at least tipsy, some people decided to play party games. As in, the latter group. It started innocent enough, considering who was playing, but quickly devolved into daring people to do weird stuff not that the previous dares weren’t the same, and asking people to reveal personal secrets, which wasn’t as innocent as it seemed.

“Rog!” Roger startled slightly, “Truth or dare?” Freddie questioned menacingly, his grin framed by bloody lips and his eyes lined with dark kohl, giving him an unnatural, ethereal look, made exotic by his almond-shaped eyes and darker skin tone.

Roger panicked slightly, not anticipating being asked, “Uh… truth?” His vocal cadence rose in a questioning manner, not entirely sure of his choice, especially after seeing Freddie’s catlike smirk following his response. Roger’s naturally blue, but today red, eyes widened and he nervously licked at the fake vampire fangs in his mouth. 

“Do you like guys?” The interrogative is asked slowly, threateningly, and Roger could feel the panic bubbling up in his chest at the question, no one was supposed to know. He gave a nervous laugh, taking a sip of the cheap beer in front of him, before fiddling with the empty red solo cup, his pale skin, made even paler, reflecting the crimson light inside the room, “You don’t have to answer,” it’s softer than the initial question, “Unless you’re  _ scared. _ ”

The taunt strikes something deep within him, “Scared, me?” the false bravado guiding his actions. He clears his throat to answer the question, “Uh, yeah,” it’s whispered and quiet, and Roger can feel the tears begin to prick at his eyes, agitating his contact lenses and ruining some of the makeup around his eyes. He clears his throat again, trying to get rid of the lump forming just above his lungs. 

He gets ignored, he knows that everyone is too drunk to tactfully manage a panic attack, and he’s thankful for that, God knows how embarrassing it would be to actually break down during a party. He pulls himself together and focuses on Brian, who is currently talking about his crush. Roger already knows that Brian fancies Anita, so he isn’t listening to find out who it is. A lot of people would assume that he was talking about Chrissie since he’s dating her, but he’s really not. Maybe that’s for the best in Brian’s case. 

It comes back to Roger, who gets dared to kiss his crush if they’re at the party, and Roger’s wondering if he should back out by claiming that his crush isn’t there or try to choose between both of them. He knows that he’ll be less embarrassed if he kisses Debbie, and he knows she likes him, but he likes Crystal more. It’s a tough choice, especially considering that Roger doesn’t even know if Crys likes guys, never mind Roger. 

He decides that he’s done being a coward about these things, and goes up and kisses Crystal. It’s slightly awkward, Crystal’s taller than him, he’s surrounded by other people, he’s not responding, oh God, Roger can feel the panic try and sneak up on him, he desperately continues, begging Crystal to not make this worse than it is. 

Thankfully, Crystal apparently gets with the program, since he begins kissing Roger back, and it miraculously gets less awkward as time goes on, and Roger’s beginning to suspect that they’ve been kissing for longer than is socially acceptable. Roger breaks away with a sheepish smile, his fangs on full display, and his slick-backed hair messy. 

He’s vaguely aware of Brian kissing Anita somewhere behind him, of Freddie cheering him on, of John rolling his eyes at Freddie’s antics. 

Their eyes meet, and Roger walks (is dragged) away that night with Crystal Taylor’s number. Maybe this stupid Halloween party wasn’t too bad. Though it would be better if he were leaving with more than John. But what can you do?


End file.
